LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XX, Issue 1495, 30 November 1878, Page 3

LITERATURE.

CHRISTMAS AT THE BARON’S.

By the Author of “German Home Life ”

‘ Danes les grandos raises le cceur se brise ou

se bronze.’—Balzac,

( Concluded .)

‘Minna, how do you stand with Karl Werner ?’

‘ He is my foster-brother.’ ‘ He is your lover.’

‘ I do not say so.’ ‘ But I do. And I say more. Yon told me something of another lover. You gave me to understand that you returned his love.’ Minna’s face flushed a deep passionate reel. This woman, who had shamelessly stolen her lover from her, had now the effrontery to re f er to him.

‘ Well I have something to tell you about him. He is, no doubt, a gafiant young gentLman, pleasant, amiable, accomplished, but—he is nothing more ; he can and will he nothing more. You see him at his best. There are no great possibilities in his future. He will do his duty, and keep his sword and his honor bright, but he will never lead a forlorn hope.’ Silence.

* But near to to you, within your grasp, at your feet, in the palm of your hand yourfingershaveonly to close nponit—a great heart lies; genius waits; a grand future sleeps. Your Lurch can wake the dormant snark to life. Dare to be true to yourself. Have the courage of your convictions. Stoop, and, when you rise, you will rise higher than you ever rose before ; higher than you ever in your wildest thought dreamed to ri«e ; you will float, you will soar, and your love wiil have kissed the sleeping genius into life.’ She looked beautiful in this prophetic mood, pleading (as she thought) with Minna for her own soul. ‘You are an admirable advocate,’ the girl answered coldly. ‘ The thing is impossible.’ ‘ Impossible, because of social rank, of conventional prejudice 1 Be true to yourself dear Minna I’ ‘ Impossible, because I love another man. The man your vanity has sought to steal from me.’ * The man my friendship has won for you —that is ray Christkindchen to you, Minna. Your father consents to your betrothal;l write by to-night’s post. Hand von Haften will be here to-morrow !’ Chapter IX. In the great Ahnen-mal at Waldstein a hund r ei tapers were burning. Costly and homely gifts lay spread on tables ; the pastor and his buxom daughter, the forester and his homely spouse, the secretary and his numerous olive branches, all the servants and dependents on the estate, were gathered together, according to immemorial custom, in honor of the Christmas t ee. At the upper end of the hall stood Baron Waldstein surrounded by his family and guests. Never had he been so condescending fluent, and gracious. At. the lower end of the hall Minna’s portrait, wreathed in evergreens, smiled out at the wondering women and children. F t each one au appropriate gift had been provided. The good people must not be detained long, since in every cottage and farm other trees were waiting to be lighted up, and old Father Christmas was holding forth liberal hands on all sides. RaH Werner’s eves moved from the portrait of Minna ; from Minna back to the portrait. Never had she looked so brilliant, strange, unlike other llesh-and-b’ood women. Mrs Dighy. in a long white robe, crowned with holly, stood out like a winter-angel from tho confused group at the top of the hall.

It was with satisfaction that Werner recognised, Captain von Haften’s presence. Minna would see with her own eyes the truth of all he had toll her as to Mrs Digby’s flirtation with her quondam lover, 'he had been too busy since tho arrival of their guests to come across to the forester’s house, and for his part he had made no inquiries as to what visitors were expected at the Castle, He was therefore quite unprepared for tho young avarrior’s appaiation. Preoccupied by his ambition, inspired by bis love, fulfilled by his art, his unpractical brain all absorbed with visions of possible future glory and lovo, and hfs proud rebellious heart full of the joy of conflict, the young artist walked to and fro like one in a dream, transfigured, rapt.

The picture was his Christmas gift to Minna. He had told her so. The formula of presenting it to the Baron must be gone through, he said, like any other piece of conventional propriety. But in her heart of hearts she. would know that fie dedicated his work, his labor of lova his best art, to her ; that it was h,erq only. And Minna’s wounded vanity hs,d found balm and consolation in this rapture of devotion.

As be looked at the picture now, and from tho picture back to Minna, he told himself that he had given he’’ something that no one else coid- 1 'af They might adorn her ...-uii jewels, worry her with nicknacks, smother her with finery, hat he had given her of his best—qf Ifis apul and his heart, of his blood and his brains, of his past and

his future. He had given her to herself as Love had divined and Art had expressed her. His soul hnd sought out hers, had caught its essence, and fixed it in eloquent silence on the mute canvas. Wild visions of the days when that p'cture would hang upon the walls of a room where they would sit together, in the calm security of a conquered fate, and look back soothed and smiling upon the history of their stormy love, flitted across his re tless brain Ho could endure to be separated from her now. He held fate in the palm of his hand, and felt w thin him the power to rise above and conquer the world. Bather than that picture—the heart of his heart, the love of his love, the brain of his brain—should pass into other hands, he would destroy it. Then at least no vulgar eye or hand would have profaned its beauty or sullied its aecret meaning. The Baron had just presented a magnificent rifle to Karl Werner. ‘I know of no more appropriate gift for a forester’s son,’ he said, with that glib aptitude for euphuism learned so readily in courts. Karl Werner took it and bowed. He felt like a young knight might do who has won his spurs. As his hand glided across the smooth stock, felt the polished steel of the trigger, and weighed the weapon with the appreciative pleasure of a connoisseur, the thought ran through him like an electric shock that he held life and death in his hands. He could create and he could destroy. The godlike attributes were his. He was intoxicated by some strange spirit drink, and the ordinary things of life, the common ways of men, the beaten-out phrases of existence found no place in his mind.

As in a trance, he was aware of some movement at the upper end cf the hall. He saw Captain von Hafteu bowing over the white hand of the beautiful winter angel. He saw Minna’s wild glittering eyes, with the shifting light in them he had so often sought to catch. It did not trouble him that their wandering will-o’-the-wisp light did not rest on him.

* And now, my frimds.’ Baron Waldstein said, speaking in a louder voice, so that there was an immediate hush in the r-'om, I must ask you all for something in return. Your good wishes for my daughter and future son-in law. Three cheers for the bride and bridegroom T* i Du lieber Gott! Das wird ein schones Paar geben !’ exclaimed the tender hearted Frau Forsterin, as she crossed the courtyard with her husband and son, ‘ I shall see the children,perhaps even the children’s children, of our gracious Fraulein !’ * * * *

Cbristmas-day dawned bright and cloudless. Ihe dying year slept peacefully in its winding sheet. In the Ahmen saal stood a frame without a picture. And in the heart of the dark pine woods a young man Jay, his nfic beside him, his fair head pillowed on the frozen snow. The sharply cut lps were firmly set, but the broad white brow was serene and placid. Rds spotless pillow was stained by a crimson witness, yet a strange triumphant smile was fixed in the sLhtless far seeing eyes, that were looking across time into eternity.

* The words ‘ Brant and Brautigam’ are only applied to betrothed couples in Germany.